Page 23 of Porter (Dirty Misfits MC 2)
Pretty much says it all.
If my brother ever found out what happened between the two of us, he’d be pissed. I knew he’d beat Porter into oblivion, and I wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t run me out of town in the process. Granted, he didn’t have one foot to stand on, seeing as he’d been a shit brother lately. But his overprotective nature would never change. Brooks had always been hovering over my shoulder, making sure no one messed with me. It was one of the many reasons why I took off to L.A. in the first place.
So I could have a chance at living my own life.
Maybe that’s what he wanted—for me to leave.
“Something smells good in here.”
“Ah!”
Porter’s voice caught me off-guard and I jumped in fright. The pan of scrambled eggs almost went tumbling to the floor, but Porter reached around my body and caught the handle of the pan. He studied me with a curious stare as I pressed my back against the knobs of the stove, feeling the heat of the burner playing at the skin against my body.
Then, he placed the eggs on the backburner and took a step away from me.
“Want me to start the coffee?” he asked.
I let go of the breath I’d held. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. I’ve just gotta make some toast and we should be good to go.”
“What’s in the oven?”
“Bacon and sausage.”
He chuckled. “You know the way to a man’s heart.”
My own stopped in my chest. “Heart?”
He peeked over at me. “A figure of speech, Astrid. Don’t fall out on me.”
“No, no, no! I mean, that’s not what—I just—”
He focused on the coffee. “We can sit and talk once we get food on the table. How’s that sound?”
I swallowed hard. “Great. Sounds absolutely fantastic.”
We finished up breakfast in silence before we made our plates and sat down. But still, neither of us spoke first. We kept stealing glances at one another while sipping our coffee or biting into our eggs. However, neither of us wanted to take the first step.
So, I drew in a deep breath to start the conversation before Porter blurted it out first.
“I really enjoyed last night.”
My eyes met his. “You did?”
He grinned. “Kind of obvious for a guy if he enjoys something, right?”
I blushed. “This is very true.”
“I feel like you didn’t quite enjoy it, though.”
My eyes widened. “No, no, no! I thought it was amazing. I just…”
He snickered. “Let me guess. Brooks?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Partially, at least.”
He crooked an eyebrow. “Partially?”
I put my fork down. “Look, I never really explained to you why I just up and left to go to Los Angeles.”
His eyes fell to his food before he took a big bite. “You don’t owe me an explanation for something like that.”
“I really do, though. I don’t want you to think I abandoned you or something.”
He took a bite of bacon. “Seriously, you don’t owe me anything.”
I reached over the table and settled my hand against his forearm. “Porter, look at me.”
He lifted his eyes and I saw nothing but pain behind them. “What?”
I squeezed his forearm softly. “I didn’t leave because of you, or because I didn’t like you, or because we weren’t friends, or whatever it is you’ve been telling yourself over the years.”
He sighed. “Why did you leave, then?”
I licked my lips. “Your drinking.”
His back stiffened and he sat up straight. “Seriously?”
I shook my head. “Porter, you have to understand that watching you spiral into your drinking reminded me of watching my mother do the same thing. And I was helpless to stop it. Just like Mom, there was nothing I said to you or offered to do that made things any better, and watching you lose yourself down the same bottles as her just—it ripped me apart inside.”
His posture softened a bit. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“I’m sorry that I chose to leave instead of being there for you. We’ve always been like family, if anything because of your relationship with Brooks. I’m sorry I didn’t step up to the plate like I should have. Like he would have done for you had he not landed himself in prison.”
He took my hand in his. “It’s okay, Astrid. Really.”
I shook my head. “It’s not okay. I left you. I abandoned you. And I never stopped wondering if you were all right. If you had turned things around. I kept telling myself I’d come back to visit, but then things with work started rolling in and my career took off, and pretty soon an entire year had passed and I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me anyway.”
He smoothed his thumb over my knuckles. “None of what happened is your fault. Not once did I ever feel like you left me. I never felt abandoned, just alone. Even with you around, or the guys, or Brooks, I always just felt alone. And that’s on me.”
